


Winston, Kowalski, and Flash

by TanyaReed



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg arrives at the Consulate and runs into some unexpected friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winston, Kowalski, and Flash

Meg grumbled to herself as her cold hands fumbled with the lock on the Consulate door. That afternoon, she had forgotten her purse and hadn't even realized it until she got all the way home. Since it was Friday, she had to go back to work to pick it up instead of waiting for the morning as she normally would have. She had only been gone a few hours and was not expecting the Consulate to be quiet and dark. She assumed Constable Fraser was out somewhere chasing criminals with his American friend.

When she finally got the door open, she snapped on the light in the foyer and frowned. The room was slightly untidy, and there was a sock on the floor by Turnbull's desk. Evidence of whatever Fraser and Ray—and possibly Turnbull—had been up to had better be gone by Monday morning, she thought, or she would not be happy. And neither would they.

She was still frowning when she got to her office door. Her hand was reaching out for the knob when a soft whimpering sound made her freeze. At first, the sound was so faint, she thought she might have imagined it.

When the sound came again, she turned from her door and followed it towards the back of the building. Her stomach clenched a little as she wondered if something had become trapped in the Consulate. At least, to her knowledge, rats didn't whimper.

Her nervousness became worry as she realized the distressed sounds were coming from Fraser's office. Had Diefenbaker been left home and somehow hurt himself? She switched on the light and hurried to Constable Fraser's door.

When the door opened, so did Meg's mouth as three balls of fur tumbled out. They took off running down the hallway, feet too large for their little bodies slipping and sliding on the wooden floor.

 _Puppies?_ she thought in shock.

That would account for the mess and the sock that looked as if it had been in a blender. The much bigger mess that would greet her if she didn't round them up and put them back in Fraser's office flashed through her mind. She remembered clearly what her own puppy had been like on her most overactive days and now Meg had three playing unchecked in her Consulate. She heard one of them yapping in the vicinity of the kitchen and shook off her shock.

A sudden smash from the direction of the front offices made her wince, and she was glad her own door was firmly closed. She was torn about which way to go when she saw a little face peering at her through the railing of the back staircase. It was giving her an adorable puppy grin, and she almost smiled back before she realized that the puppy was headed to the royal suite.

“No,” she said calmly. “Bad puppy.”

He—or she—gave a small, high pitched bark before retracting his head and starting back up the stairs. His body was gray and fuzzy with an incongruous black tail, almost as if he had been used as a dip stick.

Visions of shredded drapes and ripped comforters filled her head. Another smash made her glance in the direction of the foyer, but she just bit her lip and started up the stairs after the black-tailed puppy. She could already hear him thumping and sliding across the floor, and she hoped Turnbull had closed the bedroom door the last time he cleaned.

“Here, puppy,” she said. “Come here, Winston.” It was as good a name as any. “Auntie Meg has a treat for you.”

There was a triumphant yip and then a growly sound and Meg prayed he had found a mouse to fight and not her expensive imported sheets.

As she got to the top of the stairs, she tripped over something in the semi-darkness. It was soft and squishy, but it didn't make a sound. She fell against the wall, terrified that she had killed the puppy.

“You okay, Winston?” she asked, flipping the switch near her hand.

With some relief, she saw the object she had stepped on was just a double roll of toilet paper, half of which covered the hallway and most of a wriggling gray and black puppy.

The door to the royal suite was wide open, and the trail of toilet paper led from there.

Her knee hurt from where she had banged it against the wall. She limped slightly as she went forward and scooped the puppy in her arms. He wiggled a little before he settled comfortably against her. His fur was so soft, Meg couldn't resist burying her face in it for just a second.

“Don't tell Fraser,” she whispered against him.

More alarming noises came from downstairs, so she hurried back to Fraser's office. When she put Winston inside, he tried to escape, and she wasn't sure there was any way she could get out without him getting out with her.

It took her several tries—and about ten minutes—before she was able to shut the door without his head in it. Of course, she almost took her own fingers off in the process.

“One down,” she mumbled, heading towards the front of the building.

She gritted her teeth as she saw the stuffing that now littered the foyer. It looked almost as if it had snowed—if snow were made of cotton. In amongst it were the shredded remains of one of the best pillows from the royal suite.

“Okay, puppies, where are you?”

A crash from a nearby room answered her, and she groaned as one of the puppies came out with a cord between his or her teeth. A lamp came bumping behind the puppy, scraping against the wood of the floor and losing glass with every few steps of its journey.

This puppy was a little different. She, Meg thought the puppy looked like a girl, was smaller and more delicate. Her body was gray like Winston's, but she had four black feet and a white belly.

“Bad puppy,” Meg repeated, reaching to take the cord from the puppy's mouth. The puppy growled at her good-naturedly, so Meg continued, “Don't be ridiculous. You could hurt yourself. You're as bad as Ray. If you were mine, I'd call you Kowalski.”

She tugged at the cord, and Kowalski tugged back. She tugged harder, and the puppy answered in kind.

“Come on, Sweetie, give me the lamp.”

The puppy shook her head rapidly, swinging the cord from side to side.

“Cords aren't good for puppies,” Meg tried again.

Kowalski shook the cord again, obviously trying to entice Meg to play more tug-of-war. Meg picked up the sock from nearby and waved it in front of the puppy's nose.

“Look at this. Isn't Ray's sock more fun to play with than some old lamp cord?” She had no idea if the sock was Ray's, but she couldn't see Fraser or Turnbull giving the puppies one of theirs to play with.

The puppy's eyes tracked the sock before she dropped the cord and lunged at the new toy.

“Good girl,” Meg said, scooping up Kowalski. She tugged on the sock a few minutes as a reward for the puppy before bringing her back to Fraser's office.

Of course, when she opened the door to put Kowalski in, Winston pushed his way out.

“Winston, wait!” she cried.

When she did, Kowalski gave a wriggle and tumbled out of Meg's arms to race off after her brother.

“No,” Meg said softly. “Please come back.”

An alarming smash in the kitchen made her gaze snap away from the two puppies disappearing down the hallway. _Oh no_.

She raced to the kitchen to find the third puppy surrounded by chaos. Broken jars, a tablecloth, place mats, and goulash all littered the floor around the table. Turnbull liked to jar food and bring it to homeless shelters over the weekends. Apparently, he hadn't had time to do that yet. Otherwise the third puppy, who was completely gray as far as Meg could tell, would not be standing there covered in goulash and lapping at some of the bigger spatters.

Meg almost let out a puppy-like whimper herself as she thought of the mess three little puppies were making of her Consulate.

“Don't do that,” she said reasonably, trying not to lose her temper. “You could eat glass. Glass is very bad for your tummy.”

She reached down to get him, already anticipating the squish of sauce against her blazer. The puppy had other plans. When he saw her hands coming, he made a rush for the door, shedding noodles and sauce as he went, and she was left grasping air. Flash. This one was Flash.

“Come here, you little monster,” she yelled in frustration, but he was already gone.

Whether it was her blood pressure or the exercise, Meg had to stop briefly to unbutton and shrug off her suit jacket. She tossed it on the sideboard and went off in search of Winston, Kowalski, and Flash.

At least now she had a trail, she thought with tired humour as she followed bits of pasta and hamburger down the hallway. It led into the boardroom where Flash was sitting on the table happily gnawing on one of the chairs.

The puppy looked up and saw her. She could almost swear he had an evil grin as he jumped down and raced between her legs.

“Dammit,” she grumbled, catching the door frame as her foot slipped in something slimy and orange that she hoped was goulash.

There were yips behind her, and she turned to see Kowalski and Winston playing tug-of-war with the tattered pillowcase.

“Nice puppies,” she said quietly.

They growled at each other playfully, ignoring her as she softly stepped closer. She swooped down and grabbed them, tucking one arm around each. Kowalski, the little charmer, turned and thoroughly licked the side of Meg's face as she brought them back towards Fraser's office.

She went in and shut the door before setting the puppies down. They pranced around her feet, looking so adorable that she wanted to pick them up again. She was tempted to sit on Fraser's cot and bring the two of them into her lap for an exhausted cuddle. Two things stopped her—it was Fraser's bed and Flash was still on the loose.

When she tried to leave, the puppies crowded around her feet, waiting to come out with her.

“No, you stay here with your food, your box, and your newspaper. Meg has to go out and catch Flash.”

They didn't pay any attention, so she looked through her pockets for something to distract them. Unfortunately, all she found were her car keys. She wasn't even wearing socks, which Kowalski at least seemed to love.

Her eyes went to Fraser's drawers. She didn't believe in violating someone's privacy, but this was an emergency. She opened the top drawer, her eyes just barely skimming as she forced herself not to notice anything but the pair of folded socks in the corner. As quickly as she had opened the drawer, she slammed it shut, the socks in her hand.

“Look, guys. Socks.”

Both puppies barked and wagged their tails, jumping against her legs.

“Fetch!” She threw the socks against the closet door and hurriedly slipped out into the hallway while the gray pups were chasing them.

Flash was on the other side, sauce still dripping from him, looking at her with his head quizzically to the side. He reminded her of Fraser. This time he didn't run and she felt a surge of triumph as she grabbed him and headed for the washroom.

“You have been a very bad boy today,” she said softly, releasing her frustration and letting it become relief. Like Kowalski before him, Flash enthusiastically covered her face with kisses. “You know, besides your sister, that's the first time someone's done that in over a year,” she added conversationally, feeling herself smile despite the wreckage around her. There was something about puppies...

It took her fifteen minutes to get Flash cleaned up in the sink. The puppy kept trying to escape and by the time she was done he was clean but both Meg and the bathroom were flooded and covered in goulash. She was able to wash most of it from her skin and hair, but her clothes were a lost cause.

Hoping the three men she was going to murder for this incident would not return for awhile, she peeled herself out of her shirt, skirt, and pantyhose. It was cold enough outside that she was wearing a camisole and slip underneath, so she was still completely covered, but she would die of embarrassment if Fraser, Turnbull, or Ray caught her in her underclothes. Thankfully, she had a change of clothes in her closet, and she'd be putting them on as soon as Flash was safely in Fraser's office with the others. Then, she'd be patiently waiting for the men because there was no way she was going to clean the mess alone.

As she went out of the washroom, the cold air from the drafty door hit her skin and she shivered. The puppy was wet, but she held him closer for warmth anyway.

At Fraser's door, she gave her nemesis a little kiss before opening the door just a crack to shove him inside. There was sudden pressure on the door and Meg, kneeling, was tipped over backwards as Winston and Kowalski pushed themselves through. Meg groaned as all three puppies crawled over her prone form—Kowalski stopping to give her a lick--to race off into the far reaches of the Consulate.

Meg lay there on the cold wooden floor for a moment, too tired to even move.

Again. She had to do it all again.

When she could finally get up, she made her way to her office. Her closet offered her two options—business suit or sweats—and she stripped the rest of the way to climb into the comfortable RCMP track suit. She could hear the puppies playing but decided to sit down, just for a minute, before trying to catch them again. When her body hit the couch, she decided that she might lay down while she was catching her breath. The couch and her clothing were so comfortable.

There was another loud smash but Meg just closed her eyes and pretended she didn't even hear it.

XXX

“Do you think they're okay?” Ray asked, pulling his jacket closer as he watched Fraser turn his key in the lock.

“They're perfectly all right, Ray. They had adequate food and water and a newspaper for urination.”

Ray nodded, remembering how rambunctious the puppies had been earlier. “Do you think your office is okay?”

“I'm sure it's f...” Fraser stopped mid-word as the door swung open.

Ray stared at the foyer in disbelief. It was covered with stuffing and some kind of orange goo. A desk blotter sat in the middle of it, its plastic top half-ripped off and filled with tiny teeth marks. There was even a smashed lamp surrounded by tiny pieces of glass over by Turnbull's desk.

“Fraser.”

“I see it, Ray.

“What happened? Explosion?”

“I think the puppies are loose.”

Beside them, Diefenbaker whined, probably in agreement.

“Shit. The Ice Queen's gonna blow her stack.”

“That's probably a fair assessment.”

“We'd better split up. Take upstairs.”

Fraser nodded, and he and Dief started up. Ray looked in the first small room. It looked okay, except for the orange gunk on the floor and two tipped chairs. He didn't see the puppies.

When Ray came out, he noticed that Inspector Thatcher's door was open. He felt the color drain from his face as he hurried towards it. She had lots of expensive stuff in there, and if any of it were broken, she would kill them.

He went inside, sighing when he saw that, for the most part, things were fine. There were some orange spots on the floor, one of her curtains was ripped, and...his eyes widened as he noticed the pile of underclothes in front of her desk. Ray swallowed and turned to go, realizing suddenly that the lights had all been on when he and Fraser had arrived. He was sure they had turned them off when they left. Both of them must have been too distracted by the mess to notice.

Ray stopped in mid-turn, staring at the couch. He wanted to call for Fraser, but he couldn't; all he could do was stare.

Lying on the couch, fast asleep and looking like an angelic painting, was the Inspector. She was clad in a comfortable pair of brown sweats, and there was an orange smudge on her nose. Scattered around her body were the three puppies, also sleeping. The one with boots had draped herself across Thatcher's collarbone, with her head tucked under the Inspector's chin. The all gray pup was stretched across her stomach, his small body covering most of hers. The last puppy, the one who looked as if he'd been dipped in paint, was lying between her leg and the back of the couch with his head cushioned on her hipbone.

If he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, Ray would never have believed it. It was such a sweet picture that he wished he had his camera.

“Ray, did you...” Fraser's voice came from the foyer, but Ray shushed him before he could finish.

“What is it?” Fraser continued, this time more softly as he entered Inspector Thatcher's office.

Ray gestured towards the Ice Queen. Fraser stilled and first surprise and then pleasure went over his face.

“It appears we had a baby sitter.”

Ray snorted, but he did it quietly.

“Come on, Ray. Let's get things cleaned up.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said but even after Fraser left he continued watching the Inspector. She looked kind of sweet when she slept. It made him smile.

The smile dropped from his face when he heard her mumble clearly in her sleep. He turned and quickly hurried after Fraser.

Still, the words he'd heard echoed in his mind: “Stop that, Kowalski. That's enough kisses.”

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Kalijean challenged me to write a story about Meg and a litter of puppies. This was the result.


End file.
